


ring

by writinginthesecrettrees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinginthesecrettrees/pseuds/writinginthesecrettrees
Summary: an ask on tumblr:How dare you give me a kink about the Winchester boys liking the feel of their Daddy's wedding ring against their hot, sweat-slick skin while they ride his lap...Or better yet, how dare you give me that kink & only limit it to a few tags...
Relationships: John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 17





	ring

**Author's Note:**

> [when friends read my tags...](https://writinginthesecrettrees.tumblr.com/post/645052386040250368/how-dare-you-give-me-a-kink-about-the-winchester)

Oh, good point. I should write more about how the smooth cool band presses into Sammy’s skin when John grips him a little too tightly, how he’s hyper-aware of the feel of it while he grinds against his daddy. Sam leans forward to lick at John’s lips and that hand slides up into Sam’s hair, the wedding band trapping strands when John grabs a fistful and growls into his son’s mouth.

I should write about how Sam’s barely aware of the hand sneaking down the back of his pants, a dry finger rubbing teasingly at his hole. He’s busy with daddy’s other hand, licking and sucking on his middle and ring fingers to get them wet with his saliva, watching John through heavy-lidded eyes and John can’t look away from Sammy’s mouth. Pink lips wrapped around his fingers and the velvety feel of his tongue wrapping around them. Sam feels the wedding ring on his lips and moans around the thick fingers that fill his mouth.

I should mention Sam’s silent open-mouthed panting when John pushes spit-slick fingers into him, both at once and it’s a stretch that needs more than saliva but Sammy’s impatient and John is too. Sam clings to John’s shoulders and his bitten down nails won’t dig into the skin so he turns his head slightly, gets a mouthful of muscle and neck and bites down hard as John’s fingers slam in as deep as he can get. Sam can’t keep his hips still, grinds himself against John’s dick and the fingers in his ass, and John tells himself it’s okay because they’re both still wearing pants even as he’s stroking over Sam’s prostate with two fingers, encouraging Sam to grind on him harder, desperate for the feel of his baby boy against his dick.

I could write about how Sam imagines he can feel John’s ring against his rim, hard and cool to contrast the heat of his father’s fingers. And he rocks forward into John’s dick, rubs his own immature cock against his dad through two layers of pants and boxers, rocks back to try and get John’s fingers just a little deeper in his hole, moans around a mouthful of John’s neck and sucks at the skin there. I could write about the tears in John’s eyes when he gives a whisper-soft kiss to Sam’s hair while he thrusts his fingers in and out of Sam’s ass. I could write about the way Sam arches back, and only John’s strong arm keeps him from tipping over backward as he comes.

Maybe I should write about the way Sam slumps forward, collapses boneless against his Daddy’s chest with John’s fingers still buried deep inside him, and John is still hard and aching with need. Or the way Sammy’s whisper of “more, please, daddy” is John’s undoing.

I shouldn’t write about John laying Sam back on the bed, pulling his son’s pants off and stripping himself, settling between smooth thin thighs. A handful of Sam’s watery come slicks him enough to press inside and he sobs at the feel of the tight heat, knows he won’t last and the path to hell should be longer than a few strokes into a beautiful boy who feels like heaven.

Maybe I should write about how Sam wraps his slender legs around John, digs his heels into his dad’s back to pull him deeper. And covers John’s hand with his own, runs his fingers over the back of John’s hand and back and forth over the ring, feeling it digging into his hips where John’s making finger shaped bruises. Maybe I should write about how Sam comes again while John paints his guts white, and when John rolls onto his side, tugs Sammy into a cuddle as he falls asleep, Sam has his lips pressed to the wedding band John never takes off.


End file.
